


Worth

by meetmeatthecoda



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: 8.08, AU, Angst, F/M, Lizzington - Freeform, Romance, kind of, strong t rating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-27 20:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmeatthecoda/pseuds/meetmeatthecoda
Summary: A kind of AU spin on 8.08. As Red and Anne get to know each other, Liz finds herself coming between them, culminating in a confrontation between Red and Liz where emotions boil over. Idea for chapter 1 from therearenosidesonlyplayers over on tumblr. Three chapters. Strong T rating for chapter 3. Lizzington.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington, Raymond Reddington & Anne The Bird-Watcher
Comments: 28
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

"Look, there he is!"

Anne quickly passes Red the binoculars and he peers through them in the direction of her outstretched finger, spying a little red and brown bird perched in a nearby tree.

"Ah," Red breathes happily. "Hello, my elusive little fellow."

Anne laughs quietly, delighted with their find, and Red lowers the binoculars to look over at her.

"I knew our patience would pay off," she tells him with a smile.

"Oh, I had no doubt," Red hums, passing back the binoculars. "You're the expert of the two of us, after all."

Anne rolls her eyes at his obvious flattery. "So, Raymond," she says, turning slightly on the bench to face him more directly. "Now that we've caught sight of our little friend, I think it's time you tell me more about yourself."

"Oh yes?" Red smiles pleasantly, even while his stomach twists with nerves at her innocent request. "And what would you like to know?"

"Tell me anything," Anne says lightly, gently prodding. "I don't know much about you other than you have a complicated job and you work for a living. Oh, and you're number four on the FBI's Most Wanted list, of course."

"Number one, actually," Red corrects with a proud grin.

"Oh, that's right, excuse me," she teases. "Number one, how could I have forgotten?"

Red chuckles quietly, letting the silence and surrounding bird calls keep them company for the moment as he studies Anne. She looks right back, patient and serene, as he tries to decide what exactly he should share with her. Dembe would say nothing at all, surely, but Red disagrees. He knows that, if he asked, Anne would drop it, content to respect his privacy and simply watch the birds with him. But, despite this knowledge, he feels a strange urge to tell this kind woman how he feels, the things plaguing his soul, all his troubles and sadness.

After all, so far, she's proven to be a wonderful listener.

Anne seems to sense his indecision and tentatively breaks the silence. "Have you ever been married?" she prompts gently.

Red smiles sadly, grateful for the question, a starting point for all he could tell her. "Yes, once," he murmurs. "My wife and young daughter passed away many years ago."

Anne's naturally happy face collapses, her eyebrows furrowing in sadness, her mouth pulling down at the corners. All at once, Red feels horribly guilty for being the one responsible for such a heart-broken expression, hating himself for taking away her joy, however momentarily.

(That seems to be an awful habit of his.)

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry," she murmurs, fervent and sincere.

"Thank you," Red says, truly grateful but keeping his tone light, wanting to let her know they needn't linger on such a sad topic. "It was a long time ago."

"If you don't mind my asking, has there been anyone since then?"

Red doesn't mind the question, clearly genuine as it is, and he only needs to consider it for a moment, the mere mention of marriage, relationships, _love_ , bringing just one person to the forefront of his mind in an instant.

The one person who is currently somewhere in the world plotting his demise.

Red gives a heavy sigh, suddenly feeling so weighed down by the grief and baggage and turmoil that exists inside him that he can barely breathe.

"Oh, goodness," Anne says, her tone giving him a welcome distraction, something to hold onto amid the grief. "It certainly sounds like there's a story there."

Red lets out a humorless laugh. "That, my dear, is a gross understatement."

Anne simply shifts again, turning further toward him to rest her elbow on the back of the bench and prop her head on her hand, waiting patiently for him to speak.

(And he has a brief moment of self-doubt, wondering if he should, in fact, bar his soul to this innocent woman he found in the park, but all the grief that's been bottled up inside him since he killed Katarina, since he watched Lizzie fall to her knees and fall from grace, has been building pressure inside of him, desperate for an escape, and he doesn't know if he can stand it much longer.)

"Her name is Elizabeth," he murmurs finally, his gaze shifting from Anne to the little red and brown bird in its bare, leafless tree, no longer really seeing its fluffy feathers and tiny beak, instead picturing Lizzie's beautiful face in front of him.

(And even in his mind's eye, she glares at him with a frosty blue rage, hatred burning bright and furious.)

"That's a nice name," Anne says quietly.

"Yes," Red whispers, feeling the ever-present ache inside of him intensify at the mere thought of her. "She is…" His mind flounders, struggling to choose just one word to describe the complicated woman that is Lizzie.

"My life."

That will do.

"She sounds like an exceptional woman," Anne says, kind and respectful. "Does she feel the same way about you?"

And perceptive.

"No," Red murmurs, unable to keep the bone-deep sadness from his voice. "She may have at one point but…that time has passed."

"May I ask what happened?"

"It's a long, complicated story," Red sighs, glancing over at her, trying desperately to give her one last warning, one last chance to escape being sucked into the wreckage of his life.

But Anne just smiles at him. "Those are the best kind."

And Red feels a rush of gratitude for this woman, this one unnecessarily kind-hearted person in the midst of his cruel world.

(Because she can't possibly know how far he's been spiraling, how much pain he's been hiding, how much he's been needing _someone to talk to_.)

"Elizabeth and I…" Red begins, attempting to be vague on the details of their situation. "We've had our ups and downs. We have a shared past but we very often have our differences. We disagree about many things. And recently, I did something she considers…unforgivable."

"Oh, my. Was it very bad?"

"Yes," Red says, with no hesitation, not wishing to disguise his sins. Anne deserves the truth. Or as much of it as he can give her. "But I did it to protect her. Everything I do is to protect her. My only wish in life is to see her safe and happy."

"Well, it seems like whatever bad thing you may have done was for a good reason. That generally makes things more forgivable, at least in my experience."

Red nods slowly, tilting his head and pursing his lips while he ponders her words. "I would say the same, but Lizzie doesn't see it that way. She resents my choice to withhold things from her, things that I know would be a danger to her."

Anne hums thoughtfully. "I suppose I can understand her point of view. But you obviously care very deeply for her. Surely she can understand your motivation comes from a good place?"

Red shakes his head. "I hoped that she could but…no. In her eyes, I've gone too far. I'm irredeemable and unlovable for the things I've done. She's made that very clear."

(Awfully, brutally clear. She has told him in a thousand different ways that she can never feel anything akin to affection for him ever again, no matter how unshakable his love for her remains. It's a quiet agony.)

"Raymond," Anne says, her suddenly stern tone pulling him once again from his lovesick pining to look at her. "You are absolutely _not_ unlovable, no matter what you've done. Everyone is worthy of love, and you are no exception. If she can't understand that, then she's a fool."

Red smiles sadly at her. "I appreciate you saying that, Anne, thank you. But…I think Lizzie may be right."

"I don't think she is," Anne says, her tone firm and sure.

Red just smiles sadly, his gaze drifting away from her serious expression and over her shoulder. "Have you ever heard something so many times that, even if you don't want to think that it's true…you start to believe it anyway?"

(Because Lizzie has done such an excellent job cementing his worst fears about himself, making sure he knows what an irredeemable creature he is, not deserving of a shred of compassion or humanity, and honestly how can he be angry with her for that? He's suspected it for much longer than she's known him, and Lizzie's opinion is the only thing that matters.)

Anne is openly frowning at him now, clearly disapproving of his self-deprecating mindset, the beliefs that are so deeply ingrained in his being that he couldn't possibly shake them now if he tried.

" _Raymond_ -"

The ringing of his phone interrupts whatever she was about to say. Red pulls his phone from his coat pocket to squint at the screen.

Lizzie.

"Ah…it's Elizabeth," he explains to Anne's still frowning face. "Would you excuse me for a moment?"

He tugs a glove off to press the tiny button, trying in vain to steel himself for another miserable talk with her, before bringing the phone up to his ear.

"Elizabeth," he greets, with as much fake joy in his voice as he can muster. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, I wouldn't be calling it a pleasure if I were you."

He sighs. Another gloating call then. He's so tired of her desperately trying to wind him up. She should have learned by now that he never takes her bait.

"And why's that, Elizabeth?"

"Because hell is about to rain down on you. I've made sure of it."

"Have you now?"

"Yes," Lizzie says, a gleeful malice distorting her voice. "And it's nothing less than you deserve."

"So you've said. Repeatedly."

"And I'll say it again. You're a monster, I don't know how you can live with yourself, you're -"

But all of sudden his cell phone is snatched from his hand, Lizzie's voice disappearing from his ear, her abusive, berating words no longer reverberating in his head and taking root in his heart to eat away at his small vestige of pure, untouched love for her.

"Hello, there."

Red whips around to look at Anne, who he just now realizes was close enough to him on the bench to hear their entire conversation.

And she's now holding his cell phone to her ear.

Speaking directly to Lizzie.

"Is this Elizabeth?"

Red can't quite make out the tinny words of Lizzie's response, but Anne's next words make it clear what her question was.

"I'm a friend of Raymond's. And I'm going to tell you something I think you need to hear."

Red can hear muffled yelling from the other end of the phone, likely Lizzie questioning who exactly Anne thinks she is to hijack their phone call - making him rather glad he can't make out any specific words - but Anne doesn't stop to listen.

She talks right over her.

"I haven't known my friend Raymond for very long, but the thing that immediately stood out to me about him was his kindness. He is a selfless, genuine person who didn't hesitate to reach out and connect with me, all because he saw me bird-watching in the park. He carries around both great sadness and a great capacity for caring and he's as worthy of love as anyone I've ever met, if not more so."

Anne pauses, meeting his eyes as she lets her words sink in for a moment, before she takes a breath and continues, her voice softer now.

"But the other thing I know about Raymond? He loves you, Elizabeth. Whether you choose to believe it or not is another matter but, personally? I can't believe that you don't see it. It's all over his face the moment he says your name. I think it's more likely that you just don't care."

Anne pauses again to glance at their red and brown bird, looking pleasantly thoughtful while Red can do nothing but stare at her, completely frozen in awe.

"Now, I've never met you, so I really shouldn't judge, but I can't help but think that makes you a very cruel person. Because when you love someone as much as Raymond loves you? You'll do anything for them. Even bad things. Even if it makes them hate you. Even if they don't love you back. Because that's what love is."

Without warning, Anne turns to smile sadly at Red.

"Being powerless."

And Anne hangs up the phone, closing it gently with no goodbye to Lizzie, and calmly holding it out to Red. "I'm sorry about that," she murmurs to him. "I just couldn't seem to help myself."

Red just blinks at her, reaching out numbly to take the phone and slowly replacing it in his pocket. "That's…that's all right. I'm…not sure what to say. Other than…thank you."

"You're welcome," she says easily, smiling as if it was nothing at all.

(And he supposes she has no way of knowing that it's been _decades_ since someone _stood up_ for him instead of _trying to kill him_ , _spoke well_ of him instead of fearing the very _mention_ _of his name_ , think him worthy of _affection_ instead of a _loveless, evil criminal_ -)

"I think I may have made her angry though," Anne says regretfully, and Red can't contain an incredulous laugh.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," he chuckles wryly. "Elizabeth is usually nothing but angry these days."

Anne laughs lightly along with him, though sadness and pity are still very present in her pretty face, and Red realizes with complete shock that she feels sorry for him.

(And there's warmth spreading from his toes all the way up to gather around his heart, because he _forgot what it feels like when someone cares_ -)

"Well," Anne says, light-hearted and teasing but with a seriousness in her eyes that Red doesn't doubt for a second. "The next time your Lizzie wants to give you any trouble? You send her straight to me."

And, with a final nod, she puts the binoculars back up to her face.

Red's gaze lingers on her, an awed smile still ghosting his face, both completely thrown and very grateful for this patient bird-watcher, this lovely woman.

His new friend.

"Maybe I will," he murmurs, ignoring the twinge of unease twisting deep inside him and turning back to the singing birds.


	2. Chapter 2

Across the street from the movie theater, far from the nearest street light and flooded in darkness, Liz sits in a parked car, dressed in black and cloaked in the cover of night, watching the doors and waiting.

The evening showing should be getting out any minute now.

It was only yesterday that Liz had the odd and very unwelcome experience of being told off by a stranger on Red's phone.

A female stranger.

It was equal parts baffling and infuriating to hear someone talk that way about Red, describing the very things she used to feel about him in such detail, even parroting - however unknowingly - his own line about love right back at her. She knows full well how powerless love is, because he told _her_ that _first_ , years ago in the freezing metal belly of a rusted ship. She remembers all too clearly how she was struggling to tread water in the deep ocean of her ruined life, gasping for air, tears falling unceasingly while he held her in his arms and kissed her head and made her feel like the _only person in his world_ -

(And when she hung up the phone yesterday, the bitter jealousy had lasted long after the anger had fizzled out and faded away.)

So, here she sits in her car, feeling disturbingly like a stalker, both morbidly curious and weirdly eager to get her first look at the mystery woman.

Finally, the doors open.

Liz straightens up in her seat to watch the groups of people filing out of the theater, searching the small crowd for Red's signature fedora. It's only when the main flow of people has thinned, the last few stragglers leaving the building with their leftover popcorn and candy, that she finally spots Red, the last to leave the building and walking close beside someone.

That must be her.

Liz squints, trying to get a good look at the woman. She's a few inches shorter than Liz, with light brown skin and short dark hair, a smile on her pretty face as she watches Red, who is apparently in the throes of a story by the familiar way he's gesturing with his hands. They slow to a stop a few steps from the front of the theater, still laughing and smiling and altogether looking like they're having a marvelous time.

(And Liz's teeth come together with an audible snap as Red touches the woman's arm affectionately.)

Struggling to control her temper, Liz attempts to make sense of her tangled feelings. She's seen him flirting with his past conquests before, of course. Luli, Madeline Pratt, Dr. Lipstick. While it doesn't make it any easier, the bitter envy roiling in her stomach and giving her acid reflux is at least familiar.

But this time feels…different.

Frowning and tapping her fingers on her thigh, watching this woman talk to Red, Liz realizes what's bothering her. In the past, whenever Red was overly familiar with another woman, Liz always took comfort in the knowledge that they were a past relationship, a passing dalliance. No matter how Red doted on and affectionately touched and even kissed the other women, he always turned around, left them behind, and came back to Liz.

But this time, Liz is the one that left and, as ridiculous as it was to assume that he would, Red didn't follow. Unlike in the past, he hasn't kissed the other woman on the cheek and promised to visit her again soon, while Liz knew full well he had no intention of doing so. He hasn't left this woman behind and turned back to Liz to help her, talk to her, flirt with her, touch her, hold her.

_(Love her.)_

This time?

Liz has left him and Red has…moved on.

(And the thing that hurts the most is that he's looking at _her_ the way he used to look at _Liz_. And he looks… _happy_.)

As Liz watches, he throws his head back and lets out a barking laugh at something the woman says, and his voice carries down the street and into her car through the cracked window on the mild night air, only a few words of his exaltation making it clearly to her ears.

But the last one is the only one she needs.

"…you enjoyed it, Anne."

Liz grinds her teeth, her fingernails digging painfully into her palm as their laughter dies down. So, her name is Anne. Interesting. A bird-watcher named Anne is making Red happy.

Meanwhile, Liz has…no one.

The unfairness of it all has anger boiling hot inside of her, the fact that Red should find happiness so completely and immediately with someone so soon after he's _killed her mother_ , carelessly decimating Liz's only chance of any measurable joy with the mother she's always craved in her _miserable excuse for a life_ -

(But, deep down, she knows the thing that's really bothering her is that he's found happiness with someone who _isn't her_ ).

Because after all these years of complete, unending, and sometimes unwanted _devotion_ , it feels so utterly wrong to suddenly be ignored and cast aside like this. She supposes it's only fair given that she's tried several times in the last few weeks to kill him but, when nothing else that's happened between them over the years - none of her other betrayals seemed to shake his unexplainable dedication to her - she had started to wonder if anything would.

Well. It seems there was.

(And why did it take the unexpected loss of him for Liz to realize exactly how much Red is worth to her?)

Absurdly, Liz feels her throat tighten, her eyes abruptly filling with tears as she watches Red lean in to press a parting kiss to Anne's cheek. The upsetting sight in front of her blurs as an uncontrollable, possessive fire erupts in her belly, her eyes fixed on Red as he watches Anne walk away into the night, a fond smile lingering on his face, before he heads around the corner to the black Mercedes where she knows Dembe is waiting.

Well, it seems that now?

She is worthless to him.

Tears slide down Liz's face as she blindly turns the key, puts the car in drive, and pulls away from the theater, her destination already chosen.


	3. Chapter 3

Red unlocks the door to his current safe house, dropping the key onto the hall table before he sheds his coat and hangs it on the peg by the door, not bothering to switch on any lights as he heads for the study in search of a glass of scotch. He's still smiling vaguely, his thoughts lingering on his pleasant night out with Anne, sitting comfortably next to her in the darkness of the movie theatre, enjoying a film and feeling truly happy for the first time since Katarina returned and ruined everything.

(But he can't quite ignore the tiny seed of guilt in his heart that sits right next to his love for Lizzie, that surviving ember of devotion that she hasn't quite managed to kill, that nagging thought that he would have preferred to take _Lizzie_ to the movies instead, something he knows is completely illogical given that Lizzie has emphatically vowed to destroy him and would rather put a bullet in his chest than _spend any time with him at all_ -)

Red enters the study and is abruptly shaken out of his conflicting thoughts by the feeling of an unexpected breeze on his face, and he glances up, frowning, to see the French doors are standing open to the dark back garden, the white curtains dancing gently in the wind, an electricity and moisture on the air that tells him a storm is coming.

The back of Red's neck prickles.

He didn't leave the doors open when he left.

"Hello, Red."

His head snaps around and, before he can react, Lizzie is melting out of the shadows of the dark study, and his heart is responding, nearly leaping out of his chest in its familiar, involuntary reaction to the sight of her.

(And oh, he was a fool to think he could ever abandon his love for her.)

"Lizzie," he croaks, surprised and thrilled and more than a little wary as she glides across the dark room toward him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was curious about your mystery woman on the phone yesterday," she murmurs to him, her blue eyes nearly glowing in the darkness surrounding them. "So, I decided to pay a visit…and I saw you with her tonight."

Red swallows dryly, feeling oddly guilty at the idea of Lizzie seeing him with Anne, however innocently. "Oh yes?"

"Mhm," Lizzie says, coming closer, making Red take a few instinctive steps back, edging unconsciously around the circumference of the room toward the open French doors, keeping his back to the book-shelved wall. "I watched your parting kiss outside the movie theater, and I felt…I felt…"

Red frowns, pausing in his backward motion as he takes in Lizzie's expression. He'd only kissed Anne on the cheek, a purposefully chaste gesture, still tentative in their interactions and unsure if they'll progress any further. But Lizzie has a strange light in her eyes and a certain purposefulness in her steps that tells Red she didn't quite see it that way.

"…felt what, Lizzie?"

She's caught up to him now, where he's hesitating near the French doors, close enough to touch the soft, white curtains as she finally steps up to him, surprising him by reaching up to grab two fistfulls of his dress shirt and shove him backward so his back hits the wall of books behind him with a dull thud -

" _Jealous."_

And she's crushing her lips to his with a heat and possessiveness he's only ever caught a glimpse of in passing - flickering in and out of her eyes at odd times - now out in full force as she presses the length of her body to his and he can only reach out with both hands, grip the shelves on either side of him, and _hold on_.

(And this feels eerily similar to another encounter in another safe house against another bookshelf, one where her eyes had flashed the very same way before shoved him against the wall and he had gripped the shelves and wished with all his heart that she would kiss him exactly like she's doing right now.)

Lizzie tilts her head to the side and her lips surge against his, her jaw working powerfully in a way that sends a swoop through his stomach and has him letting out a gutted moan into her mouth, feeling feverish and hot. In answer to his moan, Lizzie presses closer, her tongue suddenly sweeping into his mouth and tangling with his own. He can only do his best to keep up with her intensity as she devours him, reveling in the feeling of her pressed up against his front and the twinge of the shelves digging into his back, until she pulls back with a long suck on his bottom lip and a wet popping noise.

Red struggles for a long moment to open his eyes, feeling his mouth hanging agape as his eyes finally fix on her, captivated by her glowing blue eyes and red, swollen lips. The silky curtain next to them wafts upward on the intensifying stormy breeze, brushing her flushed cheek with the edge. She's breathing heavily as her eyes dart to take in his outstretched arms, his hands grasping the shelves so tightly he's sure his knuckles are white, and he's shocked as he watches Lizzie's pupils grow large.

(And, oh, they are suited for each other in more ways than he dared imagine.)

The curtains blow again and Lizzie surges back in, this time bypassing his lips completely and attaching her lips to his neck instead, her teeth nipping and mouth sucking with a low groan that has Red gasping for air, shifting his head unthinkingly to allow her better access.

" _L-Lizzie…"_ he stutters, his voice gravelly and hitching in the middle as her tongue presses over his pulse point. "What - What are you doing?"

She doesn't answer, only humming against him as she scrapes her teeth over the sensitive skin between his neck and shoulder, her hands releasing their grip on his shirt to press flat against his chest, pushing him more firmly against the bookcase behind him. He lets out another deep groan, unable to help himself from being completely swept away by her attentions, reveling in the fact that, after so long apart, she is suddenly _so close._

(And yet not nearly close enough.)

Lizzie starts to kiss her way up his neck as one hand slides up his chest to cup the back of his head, her nails scraping across his scalp and through his closely scorn hair. Red leans desperately into the contact, completely overwhelmed at suddenly, _finally_ being touched this way by Lizzie, barely remembering that he wanted to ask her something as she rubs sensuously against him, the breeze from outside picking up and fluttering the curtain around them both, the soft fabric ghosting over their overheated skin in the dark.

"Lizzie, please…" he whispers, his voice hoarse and pleading. " _Please_."

And he's not even sure what he's begging for, really, not sure if he wants her to stop immediately or _continue forever_ , but the whole thing is starting to transcend reality, making it seem like a particularly cruel and familiar dream, the masochistic, self-loathing part of his brain refusing to accept this as genuine.

"This…" he breathes, trying valiantly to form words as Lizzie tugs on his earlobe with her teeth. "This isn't _you_ , Lizzie."

For some reason, these words get her attention when none of his previous attempts at speech seemed to make it through to her, and she's pulling back so suddenly that he can't repress a mournful keen at the loss of her warm mouth on his skin.

"You don't know who I am," she whispers, keeping her face close to his, staring defiantly into his eyes as she speaks, before his lips attract her attention and she's kissing him again.

Red can't help but kiss her back for a few languid seconds, reveling in the wet slide of their lips together before she pulls back to nibble at his chin, freeing his mouth to let him breathe and allowing him to speak.

"Yes, I do," he whispers, feeling the truth of it reverberating in the room around them, echoing with the thunder now audible in the far distance and the occasional drops of rain starting to fall in the garden outside. "I _know_ you, Lizzie."

Lizzie pauses, considering him, the blue of her eyes almost drowned out by the black of her pupils. "Maybe I've changed," she murmurs, her voice losing some of its defiance, sounding a little more uncertain. "Maybe you don't know me anymore."

She leans in to nip at his bottom lip, clearly trying to distract herself, and he lets her, loving the little prick of pain where her teeth abuse the raw skin. He steals a quick, soft kiss before she can pull away again, and then whispers back to her.

"It doesn't matter," he breathes. "I'd know you _anywhere_ , Lizzie."

Lizzie blinks, her brows coming together in a delicate frown as she takes in his reverent words, and he hopes she can hear the sheer adoration in them, all for her.

(Because it doesn't matter if Anne made him smile once, a single fleeting moment in time. He may have leaned on her for support in a needy moment, but that's what friends are for. He's loved Lizzie for longer than he can measure and, despite it all, he hasn't stopped yet.)

A forceful gust of wind picks up outside, bringing the rain to fall more steadily onto the flowers in the garden, and lifting the curtain up to dance between them, covering Lizzie's face for a breathtaking instant, her blue eyes still managing to pierce through the sheer fabric, boring into him as she breathes a sentence into the stormy air, the most vulnerable he's heard her in a long time.

"Maybe _I_ don't know who I am anymore…"

Her voice is nothing but a breathy whisper and the wind seems to snatch away her words with the curtain, whisking them away into the night to be washed away in the rain.

(And he can't help but feel pity for her, so clearly floundering in the chaos her life has become, all a result of him and everything he tries so desperately to protect her from. Because he knows firsthand how easy it is to feel completely untethered and lost when the unthinkable happens and it feels like no one is left.)

But Red refuses to let the moment pass without reaffirming to her the last truth he holds dear to him.

"For what it's worth," he whispers, daring to unlock one hand from the bookshelf behind him to reach up and catch a lock of her long, dark hair tumbling in the wind, tucking it behind her ear and stroking the back of his hand gently down her face. _"I still love you."_

Lizzie blinks at him, her eyes filling up with tears at his words, the blue of her irises shining forth as thunder rumbles, closer this time, and she surprises him once more by reaching up to brush his face with her hand - an answering gesture, an imitation of his caress, an unspoken reciprocation - before she's suddenly gone, her weight and warmth disappearing from his body, freeing him from his delicious torture as she flits out of the room through the French doors, the curtain whipping around her as she darts out of sight, out into the garden and into the stormy night.

Red doesn't stop her, still stunned and leaning heavily against the shelves, hearing the heavy rain now falling outside, the storm arriving, hoping against hope that she'll be back when she's ready because, no matter what happens…no matter what she does, how she hurts him, who else he meets, how he tries to move on?

He can't let her go.

Red takes a deep breath, smelling the rain in the air and relishing the cool breeze on his warm face.

Because Lizzie is worth it.

Red closes his eyes, listening to the thunder rumbling in the distance.

She has _always_ been worth it.


End file.
